Should've
by JamesHarryJames
Summary: Wesley Greenwich isn't a name many know, not is it destined to be. Instead he is destined to be terribly average. One part of him, his own mind, is quite all right with this. However, the second mind has other plans. Which has a louder voice?


**Disclaimer: The author of this story has no affiliations with JK Rowling, the** ** _Harry Potter_** **franchise, or any of its associates**.

Chapter 1: Dear Wesley (Prince)

"Wesley, meet Draco. Play with him while your mother and I talk with his parents, all right?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"You behave, Draco. If you need anything, call for Dobby."

"Okay, father." A little boy with dazzling grey eyes and striking platinum blond hair walked over to another little boy. This second boy had dark black hair and contrasting sparkling blue eyes. "Hi, my name's Draco. I'm six."

"Hey, I'm six too! My name's Wesley. Do you want to play aurors versus death eaters?"

Draco smiled widely. "Yeah. That sounds great, but wouldn't it be more fun with more people?"

"Yeah, you're right."

"It's okay. I have an idea. Dobby! Can you come here please?" he asked sweetly.

Just then, a little wrinkly elf popped into the room. He looked up at Draco with wide, buggy eyes. "Master Draco called for Dobby?"

"Yeah, can you play a game with us? It's more fun with more people."

Dobby nodded excitedly, a wide smile on his face, stretching from one batty ear to another. "Dobby would like that very much. He'd love to play with Master Draco and his friend."

"My name's Wesley," Wesley said happily, eager to make a new friend. "Let's play then. Dobby, do you want to be an auror or a death eater?"

"Master Wesley is asking... what Dobby wants?"

"Sure. We might not get to play a lot, so you should get to choose. Right, Draco?"

Draco nodded. "Right! Come on and pick, Dobby. I want to start!"

* * *

Hearing the pecking on the window, Wesley got up from the breakfast table and ran over. With a laugh, he opened the window to let in a large, brown owl with a letter in its beak.

"You're back already, Jamie?" the boy asked. "And you brought me a present too? Mommy's aren't here, and they told me to wait until they got home to open my mail. Oh man, I can hardly wait!"

However, his good conscience took over and he decided to play with his dog in the living room until his parents got home. Only an hour or so later, a tall woman came in through the front door, shrugging her jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack. "Wesley, I'm home!" she called.

The little boy giggled, diving under the pillows and blankets on the couch. The dog on top yipped loudly in protest. A laugh was heard from the hallway as footsteps got closer to Wesley. He could hardly contain his giggles.

"Hmm, TinTin, have you seen Wesley anywhere?" Wesley laughed loudly this time. With a smile and a chuckle, the woman pulled the blankets off him. "There he is. Thanks for helping, TinTin. Did you have a good day, Wesley?"

Wesley nodded with a wide grin. "Yeah, but I had to wait for you or Mommy before I could open my mail. The Hogwarts letter came! It was torture, Mom!"

The woman laughed. "Sorry, prince, but you'll have to hang on just a little longer. Mommy wants to be here when you open it. I think she's more excited than both of us."

After another ten minutes or so of waiting, the last of the family finally made it home. Wesley gave his Mommy a quick greeting before ripping straight into his letter.

 _Dear Mr. Greenwich,_

 _We are pleased to inform you..._

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!"

"We'll be in the same House, right, Draco?" a worried Wesley asked.

"I don't know. I think you're too nice for Slytherin. Maybe you'll be a Hufflepuff. They're always very nice and make great friends too. You'd be a great Hufflepuff."

"But I don't want to be in a House all by myself..."

"Oh, look, it's almost your turn, I think."

Sure enough, Wesley's name was called next. With uncertain footsteps, he walked up to the front of the hall and sat on the stool. The large hat fell over his eyes, and suddenly the noises of the hall were shut out.

"Not too excited about being here, are we? Well, let me see here... Not much intelligence or bravery. Definitely not Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, but an overwhelming amount of cunning and a sense of loyalty. But, I can see where it is you want to be. So... SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

"I can't believe that Harry Potter's made it onto the Quidditch team! First years aren't even supposed to be allowed brooms!"

"What are we going to do about it, huh, Draco? Honestly, you ought to spend less time around Crabbe and Goyle. They make you angrier."

"Whatever. At least I'm not cheating my way through Hogwarts."

"Draco..."

* * *

"We were robbed of the House Cup! No one even saw all those things Dumbledore said. How are we supposed to know he's not just exaggerating so someone other than Slytherin can win?"

"Didn't you see how Harry looked when he was released from the hospital wing? He didn't seem too healthy to me."

"You're just tricked easily, Wesley. Really, you should've been a Hufflepuff."

* * *

Wesley's moms took a seat across from him at the dinner table. The boy was faithfully working on his summer assignments. At least, he made it look like he was. In reality, he was writing a letter to Draco as the two had been doing for most of the summer.

"Prince, we need to talk to you," Mom said. "Could you stop for a minute?"

Confused, Wesley set his quill down. His parents were hardly ever serious with him. His mom sighed, while his mommy had tears in her eyes already.

"You know what... cancer is, prince?" his mom asked, her voice unsteady. A sinking feeling immediately entered his chest as he nodded. "It's a common Muggle disease, but it still affects wizards and witches just as badly."

"Sweetheart..." His mommy didn't even try to stop the tears from falling down her red, puffy face. "I... I have cancer."

Wesley jumped straight out of his seat and ran over to the other side of the table. He latched onto his mommy tightly. "It's okay, Mommy. You're the strongest person I know. My mommy can beat cancer."

* * *

"Wesley, what's going on? My parents didn't say why we were coming over, and they were really sad too. Mum was even crying."

"I... My mom has cancer. What am I supposed to do, Draco?"

"Oh, Wes..."

* * *

 _To our little prince,_

 _We're glad to hear you're safe after the news of the attacks at school. Stick close with Draco, and try not to be alone. There's always safety in numbers._

 _We're also happy to hear your classes are going well. It's a shame that prick Lockhart is your DADA professor, but at least it's safer than last year. About the Transfiguration situation, maybe you'd get better grades if you put more effort into your studying. I never would've thought Potions would be your best subject. Your mom and I were both rubbish at it._

 _It seems you haven't any friends outside of Draco though. I know it's hard to go out and make friends, but it'd be good for you. Just give it a try. If I'd have never taken risks, I wouldn't have met your mom. Sometimes, you have to put yourself out there and hope for the best._

 _Don't be worrying about me, all right? I'll be fine here with your mother. We can't wait to see you in just a month._

 _We look forward to your next letter, sweetheart!_

 _-Most love, Mommy_

* * *

 _"Mommy, you know I love you, right? Do you know I love you?"_

 _"I know, sweetheart. I love you too. With all my heart, I love you, Wesley. Promise me one thing, sweetie."_

 _"Anything. I'll promise anything."_

 _"I thought I could... beat it. I can't, sweetie, but I gave it my best... fight. You need to know what can... beat you. That way... That way you can better prepare for it... Promise you'll... you'll learn..."_

 _"I promise I will, mom! But you're not dying! You can't die! You'll beat it! It's not over yet!"_

"... ... ... ... Prince."

Wesley looked up at his mom with wet eyes. Her face was illuminated by the lamplight to the side. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, stroking the hair back from his sweaty forehead.

"I shouted at her," Wesley admitted. "I shouted at her when she was..."

His mom leaned down and hugged him. "It's all right, prince. It's not your fault." She sniffed. "When people are really upset, they do things they can't seem to control."

But Wesley knew he was in control at the time. He just didn't do what was right. Instead, he shouted at his mother while she was on her death bed. What kind of son was he?


End file.
